by Heather Moll
“There are many pleasant ways by which one can pass one’s time. I see no reason for us to attempt to place a higher value on another’s preference for society or reading,” Jane interjected, likely afraid their disagreement might become a dispute.
The group had ceased walking as their conversation grew more animated. The bottom of the hill, where they remained, was a cheerful spot, and Jane found a comfortable seat for herself on the step of a stile. Elizabeth could see that her sister was rather tired and was glad to sit. She suggested that Mr. Bingley and Jane remain while she and Fitzwilliam continued to the summit to see the view. Jane gave Elizabeth a look that spoke her distress at such premeditation to leave her alone with Mr. Bingley, but she conceded to remain since she was too tired to press on.
Fitzwilliam offered his arm to Elizabeth, and they ascended at a leisurely pace. The increasing incline of the hill concealed their view of the prospect, and as the path looped round Oakham Mount, they were likewise soon obstructed from view. Their path was shaded with bright green trees and brightened by blooming flowers, and the relative privacy brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips.
“What will you think of me when I tell you how very pleased I am to have your company all to myself, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth said with a mischievous smile when they were out of earshot of the others. “I do hope that I have other redeeming qualities that will outweigh my scandalizing boldness.”
“I think you are intelligent, lively, attractive, and clever,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, “but with a tendency to judge on first impressions.”
Elizabeth laughed at this picture of herself. “That might have one time been true of both of us, my love, but we have both improved in civility since then. I think we are very well suited.”
“I had always thought so except that my preference for reading to cards or for conversation to dancing is no secret. I hope my witty and vivacious wife will not become unhappy or jaded.”
She heard the faintest hint of disquiet in his usually confident tone. “I am well read enough to be a companionable wife to you, and I anticipate many lively discussions to pass the cold Derbyshire winter evenings. I care little for cards, but perhaps you might one day ask me again to dance a reel.”
Fitzwilliam smiled mildly at this, but Elizabeth wanted to further assure him of her confidence in their compatibility.
“Where my opinions coincide with yours, I shall delight in your good sense. Where they differ, I shall respect the uncompromising nature of your defense of that difference,” she spoke in earnest and saw his tight expression relax. “I am confident we shall be very happy together.”
It did not take the pair long to reach the summit. She felt the outlook’s exhilarating influence and looked at Fitzwilliam to assess his response to the view. He was not gazing toward the horizon but was fixed on her.
“You have very fine eyes. I am unsure whether I have told you before, but they are so full of soul and intelligence, bright and clear.” His warm, steadfast gaze was enticing. “I wish—I wish that I could show…” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I want you to know how much I feel for you.”
Elizabeth felt too much for this passionate man who tried so hard to express his love. A quickened pulse and a desire to pull him as near as she could were her immediate responses to this confession. They were unfamiliar feelings, but she was exceedingly and impatiently interested in exploring them further if only he was as willing as she was.
Fitzwilliam’s gaze fell from her face to her throat. He reached out his fingertips to trace her skin along the lace that trimmed the neckline of her gown. It dipped no lower than her collarbone, but the intimacy of the act nearly overwhelmed her. He ran his fingers slowly across her skin from one side of her neck, down to her throat and then back up the other side. Fitzwilliam normally had a calm and commanding manner, but there was a restless energy to his subtle movements, and Elizabeth’s breathing hitched. He stood so near, she could feel the heat emanating from his body.
She felt an immediate and intense attraction as Fitzwilliam brought his hands to tenderly cup the sides of her face. An embarrassing thought came, rapid and unbidden: she was stirred to act in a way he would find shocking if only it was appropriate for her to acknowledge it. Elizabeth saw adoration across his handsome features as he lowered his mouth towards hers. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel his lips press against hers, but the kiss did not come. After what felt like an eternity, Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Fitzwilliam looking at her, his lips hovering so close to hers that she could nearly taste them. When she finally looked at him, he leant forward and, before his lips met hers, whispered, “You are the delight of my life, Elizabeth.”
She could not have uttered another sentence in response; her heart was too full. Elizabeth trembled when his soft lips met hers, and a thrill of excitement passed through her body. She wished more of the ardor she felt for him could come across in this sweet, affectionate kiss. Elizabeth ran her hands across his back and repressed the desire to press herself closer. Too soon, he pulled his mouth away, and she felt the familiar deprived sensation that always followed when he ended the kisses that she wanted to continue. Elizabeth could see the same intensity that she felt for him play across his features, but he, unlike her, seemed frustratingly unwilling to indulge in them further. Perhaps it is better for our reputations that one of us is in complete control.
“I still cannot believe that we are to be married,” he said.
“Are you more surprised by your marrying me or marrying at all?”
“After your vehement refusal, I have some reason to be astonished that you eventually accepted me.”
Before Elizabeth could apologize again for calling him the last man in the world she would marry, he said he had never considered marriage before meeting her. Once he decided he wanted to marry her, he went directly to the parsonage and asked her.
“From a young age, I was expected to marry my cousin Anne, long before I understood what marriage meant. But even before my mother died, I realized I could never marry Anne and perhaps, since I then had a sister, I might not have to marry at all. After suffering the pursuit of every eligible heiress between sixteen and thirty, and the maneuverings of their mothers, it was no sacrifice to suspend the idea of matrimony.”
“You never considered bestowing your hand on your cousin?”
“Anne is sickly and fancies herself indisposed. She is foolish, irrational, and very awkward. We have never had a proper conversation although Lady Catherine’s presence is partially to blame. The only thing that varies with Anne is the degree of her insipidity.”
“Unequal marriages remind me of Charlotte Collins. She is your age and has a large family with no fortune. Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony is not like mine. She wanted only a comfortable home, and when Mr. Collins proposed, she agreed because she feared no one else would ever ask her. His regard for her, I am sure, was quite imaginary.”
Fitzwilliam gave her a shrewd look. “Mr. Collins is not without respectability, and Mrs. Collins’s prudent character makes it an eligible match. Given Mr. Collins’s connections to your family, I am surprised he did not choose one of your sisters. I would have thought that your mother would do all in her power to see him married to one of you.”
Elizabeth visibly started; her future husband was too clever. She turned back to the view to cover her nervousness. “Yes, well, at the time, she thought Mr. Bingley would soon be engaged to Jane, and my younger sisters are too silly and idle to be the wife of a clergyman.”
She felt his eyes studying her as she attempted to remain unaffected. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “When did he offer to you?”
Elizabeth sighed and felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Perhaps we ought not to be discussing the failures of another gentleman?” His gaze did not waver, and Elizabeth gave a resigned smile. “The morning after the
Netherfield ball.”
“Yes, he did open the dance with you.” Fitzwilliam nodded as he remembered. “Tell me: Were you as vehement in your refusal of him as you were with me?”
“I was kinder to Mr. Collins than I was to you. You were easier to convince, however.” She laughed. “At least you had no trouble believing I was a rational creature who knew my own mind! I should be pleased that Mr. Collins was wrong when he presumed I must accept him because, given my insignificant marriage portion, it was unlikely I would receive any other offer.”
“When did he offer to Miss Lucas?”
“He made two offers of marriage within three days.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head as he looked out over the horizon, and Elizabeth read all his signs of attempting to suppress some powerful emotion. She was fearful of upsetting him on a matter close to his heart. Elizabeth saw he was tense, and walked closer to place a reassuring hand on his arm.
“Your proposal still had the advantage over Mr. Collins’s. You began with confessing your ardent admiration and love. You must not dwell so much on what has passed. Think instead of how fortunate we are that we met later that morning after I read your letter.”
He met her eye with a sad smile. “You misunderstand my reticence although I do regret what I then said. My thoughts now linger on my reaction if, arriving in Kent, I discovered you to be the new Mrs. Collins.”
“You cannot believe I was tempted to accept him!”
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “Elizabeth, I spent the winter in town trying to forget you. When I learned in January that your sister had arrived, I secretly both wished and feared you might join her. Despite my reservations at the time, I scanned every crowd in the hopes of seeing your face. Every time I heard a woman’s cheerful laugh, I turned to see whether it was yours, and despite my every effort to rid my mind of you, your memory would not leave me. With every opinion I heard, I wanted to learn your thoughts. Not only that, but I found myself curious about all of your concerns although I had no reason to believe I would see you again.
“By the time I left for Rosings at Easter, I thought I had conquered what I had deemed to be an inappropriate passion. Imagine my surprise to find that, once again, I would be thrown into your company. Had you been married to that ridiculous man, I know not how I could have abided it.”
“There is no reason for you to be so somber, my love! I did not accept Mr. Collins, and I did accept you, so there is no need to be melancholy.” She threaded her fingers through his to lead him back towards the path down the hill.
“Let us speak no longer of disadvantageous marriages. I have already decided we are to be the happiest couple in the world, so we need not discuss ourselves. Perhaps this might be a good time to speak of your friend and my sister,” Elizabeth said sportingly. “Our marriage will bring them frequently together, so he may as well ask her to marry him now.”
Her intended initially refused to speak on the subject, saying it was not their place to discuss such private subjects, but when Elizabeth reminded him about the suitability of discussing Mr. Collins’s proposal, he conceded and said he felt Bingley should ask Jane soon.
“Then you have given your permission? I should have guessed as much.”
“Bingley needs no such approval from me! I have interfered enough.”
“You said and did nothing to help direct your friend?”
“Not at all. When he asked, I told him that I could perceive that his attachment to Jane was unabated and she looked to be much in love with him. I would be delighted should they become engaged.”
Elizabeth agreed but privately noted that Mr. Bingley still allowed himself to be directed by his friend. They arrived at the bottom of the hill, still holding hands, to find their schemes ineffectual. Elizabeth had expected Mr. Bingley would make the most of the opportunity of a private tête-à-tête with Jane, and she was disappointed that they had no news to impart as the foursome walked back to Longbourn.
Chapter 12
The assembly room was splendidly lit up, full of company, and insufferably hot. Darcy and Bingley greeted the Bennet women immediately upon their arrival and asked their respective ladies to dance. Mr. Bennet, thankfully, had remained at home with a book. Darcy felt the curious eyes of the entire neighborhood on them as he and Elizabeth led the others down the set. Memories of their waltz were fresh in his mind. Their hands touched, and Darcy’s lingered on hers as they passed one another.
“Do you recall our last dance, Elizabeth?”
“Indeed I do.”
“And how does it compare to this one?” he asked when the dance brought them together.
“It is remarkably similar,” she said playfully as she passed him by, purposefully brushing against him.
“Is that so? I remember our last dance quite differently.”
“You mean because this is a Boulanger and we last danced a quadrille at Netherfield? I am sure we have not danced since then.”
Darcy could not hold back a smile. Her lively manner of sporting with him had always been an attraction.
While they waited for the next set to begin, several of her neighbors made their way to the couple to congratulate them on their engagement. Her neighbors’ looks of amazement on beholding them were shameless. Elizabeth received their well wishes with grace while Darcy was displeased with the parading and undue notice. He bore it, however, with admirable calm and was agreeable to all, even after Sir William Lucas complimented him on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country.
As the dance resumed, Darcy noticed Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips holding court on the far side of the room. Despite the distance and the crowd, he could discern the words “pin money” and “rich as a lord.” Darcy strove to remember how sensible and pleasing he had found the Gardiners. No matter his determination, reformation of character was not the work of an instant.
Darcy watched Elizabeth’s figure as she weaved in and out between the couples. She smiled softly at him when they met, and Darcy was struck by her elegance and beauty. He finally relaxed in the crowded room, admiring the glow of her smooth skin in the candlelight. The animation of her features as she danced was enchanting, and he was helplessly drawn to her. It was a familiar feeling he was experiencing now, an aching need that she so easily provoked in him.
The set ended, and Darcy escorted Elizabeth to where Bingley was speaking to Jane. His friend asked for Elizabeth’s hand for the second set; Darcy felt obliged to petition Jane. She was a pleasant partner although Darcy found his attention wandering to wherever Elizabeth was. The half-hour set could not pass fast enough, and Darcy returned Jane to her mother. Having no desire to be paraded by Mrs. Bennet to her neighbors, he bowed, though with a smile, and was about to walk away when he saw that Elizabeth’s hand was claimed for the third set.
What am I to do now? Elizabeth would tell him to give himself the trouble to ask another woman to dance. Kitty and Mary were seated with their mother. A gentleman should not allow young ladies to sit if they wish to dance. Suppressing the urge to shrug his shoulders, he joined his future mother and sisters. He interrupted their gossiping to ask Mary, with great solemnity, if she would dance with him and then engaged Kitty for the next.
When these duties were complete, he considered walking the room in silence but it would not do to appear above his company. He then noticed several gentlemen across the room who had been fishing with Mr. Bennet and him. It would not be dreadful to spend the time talking to them. At least they would not speak about being distracted by the thought of the many jewels and carriages their daughters might have.
While he spoke, Darcy noticed that Bingley danced every dance but only once with Jane. That Darcy had only danced with Elizabeth and her sisters, as a compliment to his betrothed’s family, was remarkable as he rarely danced. But other than Elizabeth, Bingley had not engaged Jane’s sisters
and danced with two new ladies to whom he was introduced when he saw them passing through the set. Darcy occasionally saw Jane and Bingley smile at one another, but Bingley had yet to seek her out again.
More often than not, however, his attention was on Elizabeth. Darcy attempted to catch her eye whenever the dance brought her near to him. He was struck by the power of his desire for her as she laughed and danced with her partners. She unknowingly challenged his resolve to act in the manner befitting a gentleman towards the lady he had chosen but not yet married. After despairing that she would never forgive him or think well of him, it still amazed him that she had come to love him. Darcy took in the way her gown clung to her body and outlined her curves, and when he met her eyes again, he wondered whether she knew what he had been thinking.
***
As Elizabeth faced her partner, she felt Fitzwilliam’s stare from across the room. It was not until the dance brought her near him that she realized he was scowling at her partner. She was tempted to tease him for his stupidity, for he had no reason at all to be jealous, but he was so dear to her that she could not bring herself to do so, at least not in regard to his devotion.
She was more disturbed by Fitzwilliam not dancing than by anything else. Elizabeth was working her way up from the bottom of the line and was at leisure to look around. When she caught his eye, she made him smile, but in general he was looking grave. At the end of the dance, she directed her friend to take her to Mr. Darcy. Her betrothed scarcely inclined his head towards the man escorting her and glared at him after he left.
“Did you not find good company to entertain you while I danced?” She tucked her arm into his.
“My idea of good company is that of well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation. I would say that I found acceptable company in your absence.” Elizabeth felt his tension through his arm.